Pretty Little Plaything
by sherlockedbyben
Summary: Clara Oswald is no push over. She's had to fight off plenty of monsters before, why should stopping a snarky little demon getting inside her head be any different? A series of one-shots involving a sinister demon and an impossible girl.
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING.**

 **This is not a happy, lovey dovey fluffly fanfic. I'm writing this to challenge myself and I want to make it as realistic as possible. So there will be angst, and anger and conflict and hatred and feels, as you would expect when dealing with a demon ya know. I don't even know where exactly I'm going with this, it's probably not even a romance despite the pairing, it's just characters interacting and stuff. So give it a try, if you want :)**

 **This sort of just happened. I've been wanting to have a go at writing something with a more serious undertone for a while now, and this idea has been whirring around in my head for too long.**

 **I have literally no idea what will come of this, it's simply a one shot but if you liked it and think I should write more, I was thinking about making it into a serious of one shots. Be sure to let me know! Thank you!**

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The first time Clara Oswald met Hell's grand torturer she was majorly unprepared for what awaited her.

Necessary, they had said. This was all necessary, no matter how cruel or callous it appeared.

" _They're angels, Clara, proper angels, not the statues who wait for you to blink to strike," The Doctor had assured her firmly, a cold storm brewing in his eyes as if he was trying to convince himself as well as his companion and carer. "If they say that this is God's will, we have to leave them to it."_

Clara had attempted to protest, her compassionate heart getting in the way of what was apparently just and righteous. She couldn't help but wish the Tardis had not landed them in the midst of a place where tall, flannel-wearing men who called themselves hunters and icy-eyed people who proclaimed to be angels were in the middle of a barbaric interrogation. One the Doctor just _had_ to accidentally get himself involved in.

"This isn't right," She had whispered under her breath, her voice soft as the breeze as she was led through the heavy metal door into a room which she felt unbearably sick at the thought of stepping into.

A large, pentagon-like structure, surrounded by strange markings and symbols on the floor in a neat circle. A Devil's Trap, they had informed her. The strongest known to the angels in question. Clara would never forget it, would never forget how foreboding it looked. She knew she should have turned back there and then, but when she caught sight of the man chained to the inhuman structure that restrained him so securely, she knew it was too late.

The slow building, sinister laughter that started soft then rose to a louder, more mocking tone froze her in place. As the man- The _demon_ , as the angels had so kindly informed her that yes, they did in fact exist- Slowly raised his head at the intrusion of the newcomers, his eyes seemed to shift and change. Clara watched, transfixed and paralysed with fear as the demons eyes rolled and became a terrifying, translucent white. If Clara hadn't known better, she would have almost assumed he was sightless, but she was aware that this demon saw a lot more than what was right in front of him.

His cracked lips grew into a slow smile, blood dripping from his mouth. _Pain,_ Clara thought, the one small but meaningful word filling her very pores and swirling around in her mind. The pain they must be causing him. His shirt was drenched with so much blood that it made Clara feel nauseous. A result of the barbaric torture that the Doctor had been informed they were inflicting on the demon to find out who was murdering the angels in their garrison.

The Doctor had told her she didn't have to see the effects the torture had had on the demon. He told her that she could lay low, wait until all of this was over and not have to go near the man. The eccentric Time Lord wanted to see this through, of course he did. Clara wouldn't have expected anything else of him. He was like a dog with a bone when it came to walking in on these things. Never one to leave unfinished business, but always one to find trouble.

But the Doctor wasn't here right now. Consulting with the angel who Clara now knew as Castiel, he was outside, trying to concoct a more effective plan. The torture wasn't working, they had said.

Which was why they had called him in. Dean. The man who had reluctantly allowed her access to this chamber. He was the demon's best pupil, apparently. The only one who had any chance of breaking him. Clara didn't quite yet grasp the concept of what that meant.

But she was here, now. After hours of indignant protest and angry words fired like bullets, she was finally permitted to see for herself what the Winchesters and the angels were working on.

His name was Alastair. That much she knew. But as she looked at him now, all she could see was evil personified.

He was a master of torture in Hell, that was all the information she had been given. It was enough to condemn him to this fate, as they saw it, though Clara couldn't quite wrap her head around the concept that anyone could actually deserve to endure so much torture and pain, no matter what they had done or were capable of. Still, this man was definitely no angel.

"Picasso with a razor…" She breathed fearfully without even realising she had muttered the words she had been told earlier aloud. She had spoken so quietly that she wasn't even sure Dean heard, but Alastair perked up, a sly glint in his bright white eyes. Clara had still managed to keep a good distance from him, so she assumed demons must have some sort of supersonic hearing. She gulped audibly, realising with a start that he had probably heard that too. Her suspicions were confirmed when a smirk danced around Alastair's lips.

"What a pretty little toy."

His voice cut at her like blade and sent a shiver down her spine. She hardly dared to breathe, suddenly wanting nothing more than to leave, to leave this room, this town, this country. To hop in the Tardis, shutting the door with a click of her fingers and to fly far, far away, her Time Lord friend in tow. But she was here now. Her choice, her decision. Possibly her mistake. Clara Oswald straightened her trembling figure, standing as tall as she possibly could and tried her best not to look as frightened as she felt. _He's bound, completely powerless. He can't hurt you._

Alastair blinked slowly, the edges of his lips still curved upwards sadistically and when he opened his eyes again, they had returned to a relatively normal blue. Clara stifled a gasp at the unexpected transition.

"Is it for me?" The demon continued on from his previous statement, his words sending a chill colder than the most frozen winter through Clara, a slow river of ice streaming through her veins and welling up in her soul.

"Back off, Alastair," Dean growled, but Clara hardly heard him. Her stoic gaze was fixed on Alastair, she was afraid to look away.

"Would if I could," Alastair replied lazily, his voice a perpetual sneer as his eyes drifted to the chains that bound him tightly and returned to rest on Clara.

"Come on, Clara, we're leaving," Dean turned for the exit, and Clara's hazy mind finally gave the order to her legs to begin working again. The unlocked themselves from their frozen state and she took a cautious step backwards, away from the demon.

"My, my, so eager to leave," Alastair drawled, and Clara felt as if she wanted to run, to run so fast and so far away from this dangerous entity that could threaten her with a simple glare. "Something I said?"

"Clara."

Dean's voice rang out in warning as Clara realised she had halted in her tracks again, still unable to take her eyes off Alastair.

"I didn't even catch your name," The demon purred as Clara took another shaky step back. She swallowed hard, taking in his mocking eyes that she was hastily learning to distrust.

"All you need to know is that I am _not_ your plaything," Clara finally spat in a hiss, her own boldness surprisingly her for a moment as she defied the demon's reference from earlier.

She whipped around and made to leave, but not before she caught the expression on Alastair's face.

The demon almost looked impressed.

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 **Oh jeez I hope I kept everyone in character!**

 **So as I said above, this is a one shot but I'm thinking of expanding it if you guys like it, so let me know what you think I should do :) Thanks my fandom friends!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay so a couple of you seem to like this, so I said I'd go ahead and post another chapter :) Since you know, I'd already written it cause I like, binge wrote when was down. Ugh, bad memories. Anyway, here it is, I hope you like it guys!**

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The second time Clara saw Alastair could've been non-existent had she not been so stubborn. She didn't have to go back there, she knew that. She could just forget about the whole ordeal and accept the fact that this demon was as evil as Hell itself and deserved everything he got and worse. But as the memories of their first encounter continuously haunted her dreams in the nights that followed, she realised she couldn't let it go.

That, and the fact that the agonising screams and painful choking sounds were becoming too much to bear. How could she be expected to get any sleep when someone was in that much pain?

That's what she kept telling herself, as if that would somehow justify her act of sneaking down to the cold, dark room where Alastair was being held captive.

The tormented wails had ceased some time ago now, but that didn't stop Clara in her tracks. That didn't prevent her from walking through that rusty metal door again and entering the room that gave her chills every time she thought about it.

He was still there. Of course he was, but part of her had hoped that by some unlikely miracle he would have just disappeared, or it would turn out that she had just been imagining the whole ordeal.

"Sweet little plaything," His voice was gravelly, his tone almost breathless as he raised his head wearily at her entrance. The painful effort it took him to speak still did not keep the conceited smirk from growing on his face. Clara cringed at the nickname, the sinister manner in which he spoke. Alastair drew in a ragged breath as Clara closed the door behind her, signifying her purpose to stay. "I thought your hasty exit last time meant there was no chance of a second date."

Alastair was mocking her, she could hear it in his tone and see it in his eyes, which thankfully, remained a natural shade of icy blue today. Clara tensed up, building an imaginary protective wall around herself to stay shielded from his teasing words.

"I'm not here to talk."

She wished her voice sounded stronger. She cursed the slight waver in her tone as she balled her hands up into fists defensively.

"Hmm, interesting," Alastair's malevolent eyes were trained on her intently, following her every move as she paced slowly around the Devil's Trap, all the while maintaining a careful distance from the menacing entity. "I took you for a gobby one."

"You don't know me," Clara hissed, trying and failing to suppress a shiver. She knew it wasn't wise to allow her rage to get the best of her in this precarious situation, but she couldn't help it. "You don't know anything about me!"

"That's what makes it fun," Alastair drawled with a grin, his amusement at her minor outburst evident. Clara pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest. She had gotten too close in her anger, her loss of control. She was right on the edge of the line that separated the two, though Alastair was still a safe distance away in the centre.

"I shouldn't be here," She whispered, her words catching in her throat.

"But you're just hopelessly attracted to danger, aren't you?" Alastair growled with a smug smile. "See? I'm learning already, young one."

"Shut up."

She wished she could have thought of something better to say. Alastair finally seemed to gather enough strength to raise his head enough to look up at the ceiling, his expression nonchalant and nonplussed. He was making a joke of the entire situation, Clara realised.

"Oh, if I had a dollar for every time someone said those exact words to me."

He bowed his head again, just enough to meet Clara's frightened gaze and bare his blood-stained teeth at her.

"Come _on_ , little adrenaline junkie, don't be boring now."

He spat the words viciously through gritted teeth, his expression thinly masking the rage he clearly felt. He was getting impatient, he was getting bored, and Clara realised she was putting herself in more danger than she was capable of handling.

"You want boring? I'll show you boring," She was hit with a sudden spurt of boldness, she wasn't sure if it was bravery or stupidity but it would have to do. She widened her eyes at him challengingly, daring him to underestimate her. She was in control here, he was the one in chains. "I'll walk right out that door and I won't come back. Then we'll see how bored you are."

Alastair tutted, the low sound resonating throughout the bare walls of the room. He sniggered, shaking his head slowly.

"You've got a sharp tongue," He hissed through his teeth with menace, his grin forced. His expression softened for a moment and he looked up, as if reliving a particularly fond memory. "Reminds me of my razor. Oh, how I miss it."

"Don't test me," Clara warned, angry tears threatening to prick her eyes in her terror. "I've half a mind to leave right now."

"Now, now, little human, don't be like that," Alastair's eyes didn't turn white as before, but the glint in them now was just as horrific. "You know you find me much more fun than you feathered friends out there."

"Compared to a demon like you, the angels are a bundle of joy," Clara muttered darkly, taking a small step backwards. Alastair hummed, his face thoughtful.

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one, plaything," He mused in a patronizing tone, mocking her once more. "The angels… They just have no art to their skill, no finesse. Do you know how infuriating that is? I've embraced pain worse than the suffering they've managed to inflict on me so far."

"That's why they hired a professional," Clara gulped, her mind floating back to the oldest Winchester brother. Dean and Alastair had a history, and not a very pleasant one. Alastair had taught him the art of torture. "And stop calling me that."

"I'll stop referring to you as my plaything when you tell me your real name," Alastair was toying with her, she knew it, and she knew she shouldn't give in, but she couldn't help it. Weighing her options with a glower, she finally decided it wouldn't do too much harm to let him know just one tiny detail about herself.

"Fine," She snapped curtly, hoping fervently that she wasn't making a huge mistake. "Clara. Clara Oswald."

"Sweet little Clara," Alastair sighed with a dark, smug smirk, his tone chilling. Clara shuddered, beginning to back away, a feeling of severe dread pooling in her stomach. "You're really spilling the beans now. Tell me, _Clara,_ if you're not here to talk, what exactly is it you're doing?"

She had stayed too long, plunged in too deep and ended up way out of her depth. She took a deep shuddering breath, backing away more rapidly now. She would never forget the way he looked at her, those sinister eyes, cold as ice, staring right through her and into her soul.

"Right now, I'm making an exit," She replied quickly, her tone breathless as she spun on her heel and left, leaving Alastair's dark laughter behind her.

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 **Yeah, I'm trying to keep everyone in character because I want to challenge myself and make this realistic so this isn't going to be a happy, fluffy fanfic. There will be angst. Just a warning ayyyy**

 **So, if you liked that, or even if you didn't, review anyway just to let me know :) It really helps when I get feedback, but don't feel pressured! Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

The third time Clara encountered Alastair, she was terrified, yes, but she couldn't find it in herself to feel hatred towards him.

The excruciating screams had become too much for her to tolerate, and after much futile tossing and turning, she trusted her instinct and went to locate the source.

When she made it to the looming metal door this time, Dean Winchester was walking out of it, looking as weary and tormented as if he had just been to Hell and back. In a way, he had. His eyes had narrowed in suspicion as she approached but that didn't put Clara off.

"What are you doing down here?" His deep voice held a warning which Clara chose to ignore. She was focused.

"Let me through, please," She requested as calmly as she could muster. Dean's eyebrows furrowed and he shifted so that he blocked her way to the door even further.

"No."

The word was almost a disbelieving question, the hunter didn't understand what exactly Clara was implying.

"Dean Winchester, let me through or so help me," Clara's voice was one of quiet rage now as she attempted to push past the exhausted man to gain access. He held up a hand to halt her, cautious.

"Cas and that douchebag Uriel won't be happy about this," He was giving her information she was already fully aware of. "Why, Clara? I thought you didn't want to get involved."

"I haven't exactly been given much choice," Clara replied bitterly, still adamant to get to her required destination. "Please, Dean. I won't do anything stupid."

She supposed she didn't count the fact that entering the room was a stupid feat in itself. Still, she wouldn't give up until Dean finally begrudgingly allowed her access, satisfied that she knew what she was doing. Clara was lucky he was too tired to put up much of a fight, though he had protested determinedly that it was against her best interests to go in there. _"Listen, Clara, you wear the pants when it comes to the rest of us, you like to be in control, I know. But I'm telling you now, you won't like what's in there."_ She had accepted his qualms, and carried on with what she wanted to do.

As she shut the door firmly behind her with a soft bang, she took a quick intake of breath. This was much, much worse than she had imagined.

The smell of blood hit her first, so strong that it hit her with an overwhelming wave of nausea. She actually had to clutch her stomach and hold her breath in horror as she let her gaze wash over him for the first time in days. They had told her what to expect, she had forced them to update her on everything that was happening. She knew Alastair still wasn't talking, so they had upped their interrogation techniques, intensifying the intense torture. Still, she hadn't thought the result would be enough to actually evoke pity from her.

"Alastair?" She whispered, taking an uneasy step forward. No laughter, no snide comment, not even a smirk. The demon remained motionless, his head hanging, bathed in shadow and blood. Clara approached slowly, fearfully. Was he breathing? Did demons even need to breathe? His silence and lack of response to her presence scared her more than any of his sadistic comments ever did.

"Alastair?" She tried again, her voice cracking with worry and terror. She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut and stepped over the line of the Devil's Trap separating the both of them. Exhaling in a huff, she snapped her eyes open, almost certain Alastair would react now.

The demon remained still.

" _Alastair!"_ She quickly closed the distance between them as horror filled her gut and grabbed the demon's face with both hands firmly, bringing his head up to get a better look at him.

The demon tensed at her touch and gasped in a shuddering breath before wrenching his head away with a choked gargling sound, turning away from her as he coughed up blood violently. Clara could only watch in despair as he finally ceased choking and spat out a few remnants of blood onto the floor.

The demon let out a strangled whimper and his face blurred before Clara's eyes as tears obscured her vision. She blinked, allowing them to roll down her checks and took Alastair's face in her hands again, examining him. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut but made no move to pull away this time. Clara's hands were coated in his blood now, and she felt sick. The demon whined in pain, eyes still firmly closed as Clara tilted his head to the side as gently as she could manage to see the extent of the damage.

Clara bit her lip, feeling her heart break. She made an abrupt decision, releasing him from her grasp.

"Why did I have to get involved?" She whispered to herself, wiping away her tears hastily as she turned away.

She returned with a bucket of warm water and a cloth, wondering when life had gotten so complicated.

"Don't worry," She whispered with a hesitant smile, not really expecting an answer. "It's not holy water, I promise."

She raised the cloth to Alastair's face slowly, as carefully as she could. The demon cried out, in pain or fear Clara wasn't sure. She wasn't even certain he knew what exactly was happening, he still appeared slightly out of it.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," She hushed him as he writhed uncomfortably with a growl. When he finally opened his eyes, they were bright white, but Clara didn't flinch. She blinked quickly and stifled a gasp, but refused to let it frighten her. She took a hold of his chin with her free hand as gently as she could and tried to stop him fidgeting so he could look at her properly. "It's okay."

Alastair moaned and gave a pitiful whimper, but stopped trying to break away from her grip. Clara held her breath nervously and touched the cloth to his face again. The demon winced, but allowed her to continue this time. She smiled at the small victory.

"See?" She soothed as she continued. "It's alright."

After a few moments, Alastair began to struggle again, coming back to himself more and refusing to cooperate.

"Alastair, I'm trying to help you!" She insisted in earnest, placing her hand on his cheek. "Please, just let me help you."

Alastair attempted to reply, but it came out in a painful, incomprehensible choke. He closed his white eyes and let out what sounded like a strangled sob, though Clara knew better than to believe that this demon was capable of crying.

"It's okay," She whispered again, surprising herself at how gentle she was being towards an obnoxious, malevolent, evil spirit.

Alastair seemed too tired to fight back. He still hadn't spoken, so when he finally did, it startled Clara.

"I hate being here," He hissed, his voice so choked it took Clara a moment to understand what he had said. The demon coughed again, the effort of speaking causing him to spit out more blood. Clara winced sympathetically.

"Well, anyone would, being in your situation," She replied softly, her hand stalling for a moment.

Alastair shook his head, his face shrouded with dark hatred that wasn't directly aimed at her.

"No," He gave a painful cough, followed by an agonised groan. His breathing became rapid and shallow as he attempted to speak. "Not here specifically. _Here,_ topside. I don't know how you humans stand it. It's tedious and… Cold."

Clara wasn't sure how to respond, so she remained quiet, but luckily Alastair didn't seem to be expecting a response. He didn't speak again the rest of the time she was there, and Clara stayed quiet too.

But when she finally made to leave, she could've sworn the heard a soft ' _thank_ _you_ ' being uttered in the silence of the cold, unwelcoming room.

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 **I hope you liked that one, or at least didn't hate it xD Review if you want to let me know what you think :) And thank you so much for the reviews so far I really didn't expect anyone to follow this!**


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